


Words With Friends

by htebazytook



Category: Star Trek RPF
Genre: First Time, Humor, M/M, Romance, Slash, Smut, Word Games, Wordplay, into darkness press tour
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-01
Updated: 2013-07-01
Packaged: 2017-12-16 17:47:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/864855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/htebazytook/pseuds/htebazytook
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chris and Zach aren't satisfied with J.J.'s vocabulary list.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Words With Friends

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place during the Star Trek Into Darkness press tour – therefore, spoilers contained therein.

**Title:** Words With Friends  
 **Author:** htebazytook  
 **Rating:** NC-17  
 **Disclaimer:** *disclaims*  
 **Pairing:** Zachary Quinto/Chris Pine  
 **Author's Notes:** Takes place during the Star Trek Into Darkness press tour – therefore, spoilers contained therein.  
 **Summary:** Chris and Zach aren't satisfied with J.J.'s vocabulary list.

 

"You're such a beautiful little dumbass."

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean, Zach?" Chris's Heineken-glazed mind had liked the first part of it, at least. Zach looks evil across the dim expanse of the table. "Are you . . . are you bastardizing F. Scott Fitzgerald at me?"

"I think the question here is why _wouldn't_ I after listening to you bitch about The Great Gatsby in 3D for longer than the movie even lasted? It's practically a _duty_." Zach settles better into his chair, weird hair cutting across his glowy face and one very black and white eye. He lifts his big pint with one big hand and drinks it with his bangs bouncing delicately. 

"Whatever, man. I feel like an Interwar expatriate whenever we go on these press tours. I mean, there's fucking cobblestones outside, dude."

Zach smirks. "All you're missing is your boater hat."

Chris laughs. He surveys the bar while Zach fucks around with his phone. The whole place had a heart-racing quality of being undeniably foreign. Non-Americans always sounded more non-American than you'd feel comfortable doing an impression of. They looked the same as any other kind of people, but Chris could catch the snippets of accents and unusual sports and political bitching that reminded him unavoidably of their location.

"So are you prepared for tomorrow?" Zach asks, iPhone locking loudly. It sits on the table, but goes respectfully dark and lets them speak. "Are you prepared to lose?"

"Prepared to win, yeah."

"Don't make me laugh. J.J.'s list isn’t even that hard," Zach says nonchalantly. "Well, not for me."

"Oh yeah? You wanna make this a little more interesting? We should do our own fucking list."

Zach breaks it to him gently: "But Chris, my dearest dumbass, your words would be made of fail."

Chris ignores. "Our own fucking list, and it doesn't count if we're using the words at each other."

When Zach gets competitive and smarmy like this he looks surprisingly in his element. Though he usually ruins it by betraying his true fluffy bunny self in the end. "Well . . . I guess I'd just say that either of us contributing vocabulary to this is going to be a conflict of interest." 

Chris makes a show of stroking his beard, something he could totally pull off at the moment and damned if he'd let if go to waste. "Yeah, we're gonna need a third party source, here."

"Oh hello, guys," Benedict beams, standing suddenly beside their table. "Mind if I join you?"

Zach grins. "Can deus ex machina be on the list?"

*

"What the fuck do you care about spilling on your stupid shirt, anyway?"

"Uhm. It's _Prada_?" Zach says, highly affronted.

"Hey, I've always wondered about this - _does_ is it matter if that crap you're wearing is designer or not? Like, does it matter to you in a potential mate."

Zach raises his eyebrows. "Do _you_ care whether skimpy cocktail dresses are designer or not?"

"Okay okay, I see your point." 

Zach turns to his phone. Technical issues are delaying their first interview.

Chris watches Zach ignoring him like a loser for a good minute, then snaps out of it and rummages around for his own phone in his pocket, unlocks it and groans.

"Mm?" Zach says, doesn’t look up.

"Fuuuck, how is this thing obsolete _already_? I tried to send it in to get fixed like a week ago and they just said it was vintage and rejected it. 'Vintage'! My Darling iPhone."

Zach edges away from him as much as is possible given their claustrophobic seating arrangement. "Your darling, huh?"

"It's inhumane," Chris continues. "It's like telling someone they're too old to receive treatment at a hospital because they're just gonna be rendered obsolete by the newest model on the market soon, anyway."

Zach nods, puts on his serious face. "It is like that. Except that it's an overpriced gadget and not a person."

Chris laughs. Turns his phone over in his hands. Watches Zach attempt to glare his own phone into submission for awhile longer. "You uh . . . you didn't set up your overseas stuff for your phone, did you."

"Shut up, I've almost got it figured out - "

"Dude, it's not something you can _figure out_ , it's something you have to set up. I know because I'm currently feeling the pain of _not_ having set it up - "

"You're just not trying hard enough - "

"That's what _she_ \- "

"Said on her way to broker a difficult business deal, as an independent woman of the 21st century and not merely a sexual object." Zach grins though.

Chris laughs. Everyone _else_ in the cast had managed to be responsible adults and had situated their cell phones while abroad. They'd probably even remembered to pack more than one tie and had left room in their suitcases for souvenirs, too. Assholes.

Chris pockets his useless phone, takes in their surroundings because Zach's much to busy being in denial about the fact that his own is essentially a husk of a smartphone at this point.

When Chris's gaze sweeps by where Zach again he finds him suddenly alert, phone nowhere in sight. Zach is staring directly at him, and Chris isn't sure if he hates the fluttery flustered feeling he gets around him or if he relishes it. It certainly isn't fun to feel dumb or uncool or bumbling, but then again it just might be worth it for the self-satisfied look on Zach's face because it's all sparkly and directed at Chris. Sometimes Chris forgets what their relationship is like, and approaches it with the mindset that they're more or less intimate than they actually are. Zach isn't a friend Chris lights up when he sees. He's a friend who Chris misses seeing to begin with.

"Giving up huh?" Chris says.

"Sometimes all you can do is live to fight another day," Zach says solemnly.

The interviewer walks onto the little set. "Guten Tag, hello, so nice to meet you both."

"Wassail," Chris says, then executes a fist pump of guido proportions.

Zach gapes at him. "God _damn_ , girl. You ain't playin'."

"And you're not sassy enough to pull that off." Chris is pretty fucking determined to beat his ass at this, though. "One down."

Zach sighs. "How does that even count? The context makes no sense, Chris."

" _Yeah_ I'm pretty sure wassail is an Anglo Saxon derived greeting, Zachary."

"Yep, which is why I was waiting til we got to London."

"And because _I_ knew you would wait for exactly that reason, I thought I'd exercise my right to use it first and entirely within the rules of engagement."

The interviewer looks a little mystified, but he manages to put on a happy face asks if they're ready to start filming.

>   
> Chris  
>  wassail

>   
> Zach  
>  0

*

"So. Hangman again?"

"Why, you wanna demonstrate your linguistic prowess while you're still ahead?"

"For your information, _Zach_ , I have a word I wanted to use which is not on the list, but fine, you know, whatever."

Zach bites his lip for a few more taps on his phone before he bites: "And what word would that be?"

"Bookkeeper. I mean come on, it's a weird ass word. It's like it's driving by and slowing down to point at you dramatically and branding you as the mob's next victim or whatever. It's all like booooookkkkkkeeeeeeeper. It's like a ghost."

"Actually, it's like a bookkeeper."

"You’re a dick," Chris says flatly.

"I'm not buying into your little scheme, Chris. And I'm saving up my vocabulary, thanks."

Chris feels a bit heartbroken. "Come on, what else can we do to bond on a plane?"

"Wait, _besides_ watch Cloud Atlas again?" Zach folds his arms. "Thumb war?"

Chris laughs. "Ok- _a_ -ay, but you will lose." He has his hand out with thumb poised to strike. "I decree a thumb war."

"Declare."

"Fuck off."

"And you're supposed to say 'one, two, three, four', fir - oh _fuck_!"

"I win."

"That wasn't fair, dude."

"All's fair in times like these. Round two?"

"You're quoting that wrong, too."

Somehow this descends into Zach demonstrating _proper_ Vulcan kissing after Chris calls bullshit that that's even a thing despite Zach citing Leonard over and over, though in Chris's defense Zach tended to cite Leonard whenever he did anything weird as if that would make everyone dismiss its weirdness just on principle. Zach's holding Chris's wrist still to keep his hand at the right angle, and they're both struggling to keep serious faces and the right two fingers stuck together and touching, keep messing the whole thing up with the jostle of irrepressible laughter here and there.

They're interrupted by Benedict bouncing over to them. He sits in the empty seat across the aisle, legs jutting out uncomfortably.

"How's it going, then?" Benedict asks. "I did try to make it difficult for you."

Zach sighs. "Well, although Chris is _technically_ in the lead, at this point . . . "

"You bet your ass I am."

" . . . it's obviously way too early in the game to predict a winner."

"Me. I'm going to win. It's me."

Zach just heaves a studied sigh and stares Chris down, which he is admittedly pretty good at.

Benedict raises his eyebrows at the intensity of their little standoff. "Right. Well. I'll leave you to it!"

Benedict nearly collides with a flight attendant, who looks pissed off before she recognizes him and turns scarlet and stutters something, and from the looks of it Benedict reacts in much the same way before retreating into his seat like a coward. 

She reaches Zach and Chris with the drinks trolley and a neutral, customer service smile. "Would either of you care for a beverage?"

"No thank you," Chris says.

"Hmm, do you have rosé?"

"Of course," she smiles.

"Well, that's certainly a bellwether of a comfortable flight, isn't it . . . " Zach peers at her nametag. "Sarah. Thank you so very much."

"Thanks," Chris echoes through gritted teeth.

>   
> Chris  
>  wassail

>   
> ~~Zach~~ Cheater  
>  bellwether

*

They're posing for a group picture on the red carpet in London when Zach strikes up a conversation with J.J.

"And the music in the movie is just phenomenal. The theme that Michael composed for Khan is so dark, but it's got this edge of sadness, you know? It certainly sounds like a glass harmonica he's used to create that tintinnabulation effect that so defines the music for not only this new incarnation of Star Trek, but also the original series as well."

Chris groans. "Like seriously what _are_ you, dude . . . " 

J.J. fixes Zach with a stern look. "Zach. Do we say the K word in public, Zach?"

Zach withers. "No, but I just - "

J.J. just raises his eyebrows and walks away from them.

"Totally worth it," Zach says, though he looks a little shaken.

>   
> Chris  
>  wassail

>   
> ~~Zach~~ ~~Cheater~~ That's Mr Quinto Your Lord and Master to You  
>  bellwether  
>  tintinnabulation

*

Chris has a bit of a crush of Alice, mostly because she is emphatically uninterested in him.

They're stuck in another line up at a premiere, Alice sandwiched between them at an amazing angle from Chris's point of view. It couldn't have been amazing for her with Chris's elbows and Zach's careless feet threatening her stilettos, though.

"Chris," Alice says sternly. Her face screams disappointment that he is not unlike his character. "Do try to keep your bafflingly gangly elbows to yourself. And your eyes, as well, thanks."

Zach is pleased as hell watching Chris get schooled. He's a little stubbly today, hair not quite cooperating, way too much cologne which Chris smells over the spring air thick with flowers. Zach opens his mouth, almost certainly to say something sly and obnoxious, when they're ushered along to another slightly differently arranged photo op.

Chris talks about his future plans to actually avoid taking shitty roles anymore and elaborates forever because once he stops talking he'll probably sign up for a Hangover prequel, and Zach counters with talking about every last fucking street in New York City like that's fucking important. They move on to topics such as how to re-appropriate their castmate's names - John Cho in place of Jesus Christ as a swear, Cumberbatch in place of any verb with three syllables - and the various ways in which the IRS scandal made them apprehensive for Obama's sake, and what level of embarrassing that was for the three of them.

Alice clings to Zach when they inevitably trip her up again while engaging in some overzealous gesticulation. "You're both rather orotund, aren't you?"

Chris freezes. Zach gapes.

Finally, Chris says, "I mean, what do we even do?"

>   
> Chris  
>  wassail

>   
> ~~Zach~~ ~~Cheater~~ That's Mr Quinto Your Lord and Master to You  
>  bellwether  
>  tintinnabulation

>   
> Sneaky Brit  
>  orotund

*

The interviewer is singing Zach's praises. Actor, producer, activist, dog owner – is there anything Zach _can't_ do?

"So any other areas of expertise we ought to know about?" the interviewer says. "Not secretly a mathematician or a philosopher as well?"

Zach's eyes light up. "Yeah, I guess I'm a bit of a - "

"He's a regular polymath, this one," Chris interrupts, clapping Zach jovially on the back. The look Zach turns on him is one of pure hatred. "You are a gentleman and a scholar, my good man," he adds, though it does little to appease him.

>   
> ~~Chris~~ Here Comes Chrissy Boo Boo  
>  wassail  
>  polymath

>   
> ~~Zach~~ ~~Cheater~~ That's Mr Quinto Your Lord and Master to You  
>  bellwether  
>  tintinnabulation

>   
> Sneaky Brit  
>  orotund

*

The interviewer asks Chris about fame.

Fame isn't what he expected. He'd finally got what he wanted and now that he had it, life had stayed just as ordinary and normal apart from some stray paparazzi. He didn't feel different, he didn't feel changed or accomplished or like he could sigh in relief and say, now, _now_ I'm there. But he didn't know what _else_ he wanted, either. 

"I mean, I can't complain," he says instead. Zach is so much better at staying charming for twelve hours straight, the bastard.

"So I heard you actually studied here in the UK a bit," the interviewer chirps. "What's it like being back and promoting a film of all things?"

Zach comes to attention beside him. "Have you - ?"

"Eyots, yes! So many eyots." Chris pauses to indulge in a smirk at Zach before addressing the interviewer again. "What I mean is, I was up in Leeds but we came down to London a couple times, once for the Boat Race, and they kept going on and on about eyots."

"Oh lovely," the interviewer laughs. "And did - ?"

Zach interrupts: "So you do, you know, _know_ what eyot means, right, Chris? I mean, can you even spell it?"

Chris doesn't look at him, calmly advises, "It's not a goddamn spelling bee, Zach."

>   
> ~~Chris~~ ~~Here Comes Chrissy Boo Boo~~ You Better Redneckognize  
>  wassail  
>  polymath  
>  eyot

>   
> ~~Zach~~ ~~Cheater~~ That's Mr Quinto Your Lord and Master to You  
>  bellwether  
>  tintinnabulation

>   
> Sneaky Brit  
>  orotund

*

Chris feels like they've been in London forever.

The constant simmering undertone of anticipation – something fantastic could happen at any moment, here in this foreign place, and in fact fantastic things had already happened. The weight of history felt more important here than it did in LA or even New York – this place was where real life happened, not filmmaking and networking and judging.

Nothing felt entirely real here in this desaturated tableau. Zach with black eyes and a shadowy Frank Miller face didn't seem quite real.

Chris had said he was tired at the club and Zach had said he'd go with him, so now they were walking the strangely empty sidewalks next to the terribly busy streets together. Zach's phone kept buzzing in his pocket but he kept ignoring it.

Chris feels alone with Zach. That feeling that comes with siblings or your very oldest friends where their presence was a given, and not remembering about them was more reassuring than any overblown proclamations of love.

At the crosswalk Chris grabs Zach's arm to stop him from stepping out without looking, and Zach rolls his eyes. A second later a taxi tears by so fast Zach wobbles a little in its wake. "Fuck," he laughs.

Chris laughs too. "You're such a dumbass."

Later after silent blocks under streetlights they stand waiting in the Tube, and Chris gets a hold of Zach's belt.

"In case you're tempted to try your luck diving in front of a train too," Chris explains.

Zach struggles but fails to dislodge him, ends up laughing instead.

A harried man sprints onto the platform, spins around to see the train schedule and curses. "This is a fucking joke, really," he's muttering to himself. "It's bloody ridiculous, three delays in a week for God's sake."

"No need to vilipend the world's first network of underground trains," Zach says. "I mean it's still going strong after 150 years, apparently."

"That was weak, man," Chris says.

"And yet I have _beaten_ you. Again. You really have a thing for getting beaten don't you, Chris? It's okay, you can tell me . . . "

The man is staring at them. "Who the hell are you?"

>   
> ~~Chris~~ ~~Here Comes Chrissy Boo Boo~~ You Better Redneckognize  
>  wassail  
>  polymath  
>  eyot

>   
> ~~Zach~~ ~~Cheater~~ ~~That's Mr Quinto Your Lord and Master to You~~ More Like Mrs Nimoy  
>  bellwether  
>  tintinnabulation  
>  vilipend

>   
> Sneaky Brit  
>  orotund

*

It's weird the way that airports don't change much, from country to country. There's these potted plants here and there in calmingly grey-blue vases, but the plants are all different. And whenever Chris sees a repeat hibiscus he gets this uncomfortable feeling that it's significant, like a flock of ominous dark birds flying overhead and watching them.

It's while they're boarding the plane that Chris gets his chance, stuck in the line while they're boarding with other passengers.

"Yeah American Airlines is okay, I guess," someone says.

"They lost my luggage once," says her companion. "British Airways is the best."

"What's that weird one out on the runway?"

"Huh?"

"It's like, completely orange. What's up with that?"

"Yeah okay, but look at _that_ one over by the other terminal, shit, that's fucking _huge_."

"Brobdingnagian!" Chris shouts. He clears his throat. "It's. I mean you're right, it's big. A big plane. That plane is big, I mean you know, bigger than usual – though I don't even know, like, from this far . . . away. Okay. Yeah."

Half the passengers stare, and the ones in close proximity inch away as subtly as they can. Zach is just caught between glaring and giggling, and Chris fucking loves that.

>   
> ~~Chris~~ ~~Here Comes Chrissy Boo Boo~~ ~~You Better Redneckognize~~ You Better Redneckognize Mrs Zachary Nimoy at Least Knows How to Hug Like a Normal Human  
>  wassail  
>  polymath  
>  eyot  
>  Brobdingnagian

>   
> ~~Zach~~ ~~Cheater~~ ~~That's Mr Quinto Your Lord and Master to You~~ More Like Mrs Nimoy  
>  bellwether  
>  tintinnabulation  
>  vilipend

>   
> Sneaky Brit  
>  orotund

*

Chris finds Zach in his hotel getting ready.

Zach doesn't hear him come in at first. He's crouched to look at his hair up close in the low hotel mirror, smoothing it over and over like it won't be fine without all the teasing. His jeans fit perfectly, and his shirt is one that Chris recognizes.

When Zach does notice him he makes a ridiculous strangled sound and his eyes go wide and his mouth hangs open more than was necessary. "WTF are you doing here, dude?"

"Um, hello, I'm the star of this blockbuster hit. I do what I _want_."

Zach seems to have recovered a bit, but looks Chris up and down for reassurance before talking again. "I could sit here and argue with you that Spock is the backbone of the story or something but I think we both know by now that Cumberbatch is the new star of this blockbuster hit."

"Anyway - what in _fucking_ hell," Chris says, "is on you?"

"I popped some tags, man, I don't know. This is fucking awesome."

"Oh Zach. Zach. Your outfits are absolutely tremendous, you know that?"

Zach laughs, though it comes off weirdly skittish and faked. Chris pretends he doesn't notice.

In the limo with Karl, Chris starts trying to defend his way of eating – it's practical, and certainly not _weird_ to wolf down your food as quickly as possible. If everyone else is too slow it's they're own fault when Chris steals their side dishes. "You snooze you lose," Chris shrugs.

Karl's eyebrow raise is epic, but then again so is Zach's. And then Karl says, "What a load," and Zach's eyes light up and he says, "Of rigmarole," and Chris just shuts up the rest of the limo ride.

>   
> ~~Chris~~ ~~Here Comes Chrissy Boo Boo~~ ~~You Better Redneckognize~~ You Better Redneckognize Mrs Zachary Nimoy at Least Knows How to Hug Like a Normal Human  
>  wassail  
>  polymath  
>  eyot  
>  Brobdingnagian

>   
> ~~Zach~~ ~~Cheater~~ ~~That's Mr Quinto Your Lord and Master to You~~ ~~More Like Mrs Nimoy~~ Spork THIS Out Bitch  
>  bellwether  
>  tintinnabulation  
>  vilipend  
>  rigmarole

>   
> Sneaky Brit  
>  orotund

*

"So," Chris says. "One left." They're back in Zach's room that night hovering near the door and Chris not knowing if Zach's sick of him and wants him to leave so he can sleep.

"It's probably the easiest one to use, and yet we still haven't used it."

"I mean, it's not the most challenging considering it's essentially a synonym for idiot, and you as a sesquipedalianist are obviously going to be prone to it."

Zach shrugs. "If I'm a sesquipedalianist then you're a hyperpolysyllabicsesquipedalianist."

"Only when it means winning," Chris says, blithe as hell. 

"It doesn't just mean an idiot, by the way. It implies a certain ignorance which, therefore, classifies you as an idiot."

Chris holds his hands up. "I know, I know, I was just simplifying."

"Yeah, I know," Zach says.

Chris leans one arm against the wall by the door. Zach is blank before remembering to smile. Chris can't fucking believe how awkward it all feels, and he panics because this is their untroubled, understood friendship here, so he just says, "Yeah, well. Guess I'd better get going."

"Yeah, I gotta get to bed," Zach lies.

Chris opens the door and Zach has to step aside and slightly closer to him to make room. "See ya, Chris," Zach says, and Chris is inspired by his name in Zach's voice to dart forward and kiss Zach on the cheek as he pulls away. 

There's a staring contest. It is not particularly sexy though, and is mostly just panic-inducing.

"Sorry," Chris says at length. He might as well go all-in. "I didn't mean to say goodnight like that."

"It's cool."

"Cool. I meant to do it like this." Chris kisses him before Zach has time to think, and this time he doesn't veer away from his mouth at the last second like a coward. As soon as their lips touch Chris regrets it, but as soon as Zach's breath catches on a tiny moan Chris regrets not doing it yesterday, on the plane, in London, in Central Park, at fucking LAMILL, on set, the first time Zach had called him stupid and Chris had known they were going to be friends in his second audition where Chris remembers not getting Zach's obscure graphic T and making fun of his tight gray jeans.

Zach's hair is the weirdest, Chris discovers with his fingers. When he strokes over the closely shaved half of it Zach shivers, and when he tangles his fingers in the lush gel-encased half of it Zach flinches but groans about it too. Chris does it again, and Zach's tongue pushes into his mouth and Zach presses him into the wall by the door with his body. Chris reaches behind him to close the door; Zach grabs his hand after he does it and slams his arm against the wall too, kissing him so hard.

Chris can't move his head enough for it to be comfortable, just sucks on Zach's tongue until he moans, lets his mouth get pushed back again and again with Zach's manic kisses. Chris suddenly realizes he hasn't ever considered how Zach might feel about him, that it could be anything even approaching this after all this time. What if Chris hadn't noticed something for years? What if Zach wanted this more clearly than Chris did?

"Okay," Chris says, turning his head to the side to stall. "Where did that come from?"

"Are you seriously this much of an ignoramus?"

"Oh fuck you man. And that doesn't even count since you said it to me, by the way. That was like the only rule, Zach."

"Sorry sorry, that was below the belt," Zach admits. "I'll tell you what, I'll give you sesquipedalianist even though it wasn't on the list and not really following the rules either, since it's kind of like a replacement for orotund."

"So that makes us even."

"So we're at zero again," Zach says.

"Like in tennis," Chris says.

"So . . . wanna start over, now? Even though that mountain man beard is annoying as fuck."

"Yeah," Chris starts to say, but it gets lost in a kiss.

Chris pushes against Zach's chest until he gives way a little, keeps their lips and tongues entangled so he doesn't have to look at Zach or think about things again, walks them to the bland hotel bed where he plans to knock Zach down and immobilize him with kisses.

It's all foiled when Zach spins Chris around at the last second and before Chris knows it he's staring up at the ceiling wondering what happened, and Zach's scrambling inelegantly on top of him so Chris laughs. When Zach follows up with further kissing the laughing stops, now that Chris can feel his whole body warm and unyielding and shifting against Chris like he's trying to mold Chris into something else.

Chris is dizzy, but not from falling onto the bed – an impulse like the last leg of a really good run takes him, and he needs Zach as close as possible right now. He curls his arms around Zach's back and crushes him closer, feels so overwhelmed and sick somewhere in his chest that he wants to be overwhelmed by Zach's body instead.

Zach laughs, upsetting the kiss. It's the first time Chris has really looked at him, and Zach's hair looks stupid in his face like that. "You trying to squeeze the life outta me?"

"I'm - "

Zach pries Chris's arms off of him, holds him firmly to the mattress by his wrists and kisses him again. Chris sighs at the way arousal sweeps through him, sharper and better than the slow simmer of it before. Zach bites Chris's top lip, bottom lip, licks across them soothingly, makes frustrated sounds that get caught in his breathing that Chris knows so well from Zach struggling with iPhone apps or trying to find his keys.

"I like your mouth," Chris says vaguely. He hasn't felt this melty and hot from a kiss in a long time.

Chris gets one hand free of Zach's and Zach lets it go. Chris drags his fingers down Zach's chest, practically clawing to make sure Zach feels it through his button up shirt. Zach backs off to look at him when Chris reaches his waistband, and Chris doesn't even think of hesitating before dropping lower to squeeze Zach's erection through his jeans. Zach's face doesn't change at all but he sucks in breath sharply through his nose. Chris does it again and Zach licks his lips before panting and thrusting into it a little.

"Get off me," Chris says, surprised to hear the growl of his own voice. "Hey, come on, move."

Zach nods dumbly and shifts away. Chris wants to capture the lost lustful look on his face.

Chris clambers off the bed, pulls Zach closer to the edge of it by his feet. Chris takes off his shoes and socks, kneels up to unzip Zach's fly and Zach lifts so Chris can get his jeans down and off. It takes a long time but Chris feels anything but awkward or uncertain now, just drinks in the sound of Zach's shaky breathing, revels in the anticipatory silence that chokes the quiet empty hotel room. Chris knows Zach's shirt and shoes, doesn't know his boxers though he's seen Zach in an expensive looking white pair before during a costume fitting. These are darker, but Chris doesn't give them much thought because he gets them off as quickly as possible now that Zach's taken to touching Chris's hair while he undresses him and it makes Chris want to make Zach feel so good he won't remember anything else whenever he looks at Chris from now on.

Chris pushes Zach's knees apart so he can get closer, leans in and licks Zach's dick from base to tip just once before pulling away. It bobs a little, and Zach's fingers suddenly tighten in Chris's hair way too tightly, but it only turns Chris on to think Zach is beyond rationality for once. 

Chris doesn't use his hands. He licks up and down the shaft, planning to tease Zach like this until he looses it for real. He braces himself on Zach's tensing thighs, keeping him from thrusting. He licks everywhere, turning his head to taste every side of Zach's cock, lapping in places and sucking in places. He waits til Zach lets out a tiny bitten-off whimper to cover the head with his mouth and suck up the bead of precome there.

"Fuck yeah," Zach breathes, rolling his hips and groaning in frustration when Chris's grip holds him down. "Mmfuck yes do that, do that . . . yeah just do that . . ."

"How quickly your mastery of the English language deteriorates," Chris remarks, then continues sucking him.

Chris takes the soft-hard flesh down as far as he can, annoyed when he starts to gag on it but pleased when Zach moans very loudly and tries to force him deeper.

"That's it, _shit_ , just come on, move your head more - _shit_."

Chris obeys, moving his head back and forth and trying to go deeper. 

Zach groans. "Suck it, Chris, come on." He's grappling with the sheets now.

His jaw starts to ache so he glances up at Zach to try to gauge if he's close to coming. Chris moans around the dick stretching his mouth at the sight of it, Zach's eyes scrunched up and a delicate frown line between his indelicate eyebrows. And then he catches Chris's eye.

" _God_ ," Zach gasps. He watches for awhile, then rubs his thumb over Chris's wet mouth when he pulls back to catch his breath.

Chris licks at Zach's thumb and bends to suck his cock again but Zach drags him up onto the bed instead, kisses Chris in a way that knocks the wind out of him.

"God that's hot, mmf," Zach mutters. Kisses him again like he's trying to brand his taste into Chris forever. He's vibrating with potential energy, working Chris's pants open and pushing his underwear out of the way, kissing his mouth and neck and biting his skin and growling against it periodically. Chris can't fucking breathe, and he practically shouts when Zach wraps his hand around Chris's dick.

Chris nudges his hips into it, leaning his forehead against the side of Zach's head so he's whispering encouragements into his ear, and Zach does everything Chris says, pauses to spit into his hand and replace it on Chris's shaft so it slides over the sensitized skin even better.

Chris reaches over to jerk Zach's cock too, still slick from Chris's mouth and leaking now. The bed rocks with the vigor of their combined stroking, and Chris can tell by Zach's head dropping to Chris's shoulder and straining against him and gasping _Yes_ 's that he's close. Chris pumps him harder until Zach comes with a lovely muffled moan into Chris's shirt with his hair tickling Chris's neck.

Zach takes Chris's hand, gathers up his own come from it and coats Chris's cock with it instead. Chris watches, struck by how hot the idea that he's made Zach come is to begin with, and now with the proof of it slipping between Zach's strong clever fingers around him and feeling good and dirty and perfect. Chris comes from thinking about it almost as much as he does from the pressure and heat and wetness encasing him.

Zach is heavy leaning against him while they breathe and keep their eyes safely closed . Chris nudges Zach til he gets the hint and they climb shakily up the bed to collapse. Chris lies normally with his head on a pillow while Zach ends up curled on his side with one calf crossing over one of Chris's.

"That's what I hate about hotels," Chris says to the ceiling. His voice comes out as a rasp so he clears his throat. "No laundry. Well, there is, but I don't necessarily wanna give them _this_ laundry . . ." He looks over at Zach - his eyes are glued to a spot just to the left of meeting Chris's eyes. Zach looks a bit like he just got caught passing a note in class. 

"I'm just worried you're not gay enough," Zach says, though he says it nonchalantly.

Chris's eyebrows climb. "Of course, Zach, of course. I understand your concern, but just to clarify . . . me sucking your dick is _not gay enough_ for you? Dude.

"No I know, it's just - "

"The ignoramity of it, Zach."

Zach laughs, and Chris kisses him for awhile because he wants to and doesn't feel compelled to examine the reason why.

" _Fuck_ I need a shower now," Chris groans. "But I'm so _tired_ . . ."

"First world problems," Zach says sympathetically.

*

They're on the plane home. More interviews await, sure, but at least Chris will know his way around instead of feeling trapped in a timeless bubble of hotels, terminals, claustrophobic rooms sporting giant posters of his airbrushed self.

"So, how'd the game turn out?" Benedict whispers it with extreme care, leaning over a sleeping Zoe. "Any nearer to a winner?"

"It's a tie, right now," Chris says. "We've kind of run out of words, actually."

"Ah. Well I'll have to think up some more, then."

It's at that moment that Zach comes back from the bathroom. "Don't bother," he says. "It's getting a little old."

"Yeah, I think we're done playing," Chris says, probably not being very subtle about watching Zach's ass as he clambers across Chris to his seat. 

Benedict shrugs and returns to his book.

"So you're bored of me, is that it?" Chris accuses, grinning.

"Well," Zach says, then leans close to talk into Chris's ear. "You're wearing Crocs and I still wanna kiss you, so that's gotta mean something."

"And you with that hair," Chris says, shivering at Zach's breath on his neck before he sits back in his seat. "You're lucky I even give you the time of day."

Zach laughs. "You're such an asshole."

*


End file.
